It's what's for dinner..

There is so much I want to say. And so much I don't feel like I can.

My daughters are probably going to read this some day. I need them to know that I love their mother like nothing else in this world. I gave up my world for her, and I would gladly do it again.. on a good day.

But I haven't had too many good days for a while.

When I do. When I see a glimpse of who she really is. When we get an honest opportunity to laugh together. When we discuss something we both believe in.. I just feel like a high 5 wouldn't be enough. I want to give her a hug and hold her close. I want express those moments in one fantastic gesture.

Unfortunately I was raised on the wrong language. The language I grew up on included incredibly impractical gifts and outrageous demonstrations of passion. It includes songs and the feelings they evoke. It includes making a fool of myself and sometimes a fool of you in front of people we trust.

I am needy. I'm emotional. I'm reactive. I'm very much like my own daughters.. who need you as much as I do. Let me correct that. WANT you as much as I do.

Don't even pretend to think that I made a wrong choice. You know as well as I do that we're a good match. We understand one another better than you care to admit. We complement one another, and take the rough edges off, when we are careful enough not to pick each other to bits.

What we made was a hard choice.

Two people from different backgrounds, with different abilities. From different families, all separation compounded by a million little tiny cilia singing their incessant song through brain and body. 

I do all I know to do. And I wait.

And I wait.

Understanding..

I have conversations with you for two reasons.

• I want to understand myself and learn something new about both of us, but mostly about myself.
• I want you to understand me. I desperately want you to see the world through my eyes. I don't want you to agree, just understand. To validate my perspective, my existence.

And when you meet me in my minimum wage job, trying to sell you a fridge.. I want this just as much as when I meet you in the board room as the president and CEO of a multimillion dollar company.

I don't think I'm more clever. I don't think I'm more wise. I don't even think I have any more insight than you. I just want you to understand my view. Understand the context it comes from. Understand who I am, and the little part of life I am trying to contribute. Because I believe it does make a difference.

I believe even the butterfly has an effect in the world around it.

For two weeks, one little cricket has been tormenting an entire building of people at my workplace and disrupting countless meetings. His incessant call mimicking our own call - our desire for attention. To be found, noticed, and hopefully understood.  He has made a difference, however insignificant. Unfortunately, I think he's also recently dead. I may have squashed him today.

We can all be perceived good and bad at the same time, depending on our circumstances and opportunities and the view of the observer. That's why context is so very important. That's why perspective is crucial.

I miss the forest - I miss the trees.
-len

Life in 3D

I just spent the evening examining life in 3 dimensions.. and it was incredible.

I could use some depth, and some context.

So here it is. I am flawed. It's easy to see that, if you look closely.
If you take a single frame of my existence you might not see it. Hardly even in moderate chunks, you'd probably find little out of the ordinary.
But I dare you to change perspective just an inch or two, and you might just see it. You might just find the depth I lack. The misalignment that makes me jitter and hard to look at. How I just don't quite match my surroundings, regardless of how I try to fit myself in.
But that's ok.

Why?

Because we're all flawed. I've come to realize that we're all clumsy and helpless when we fall. We don't need to try to avoid falling, we just need to learn to get up straight away and try again. I suppose it's the try again part I'm leery about.

That's where we need a specialist.

On having fun..

Why does being old mean I have to be so serious and grumpy all the time?

I like to play, and tease. I like to joke and banter. Sometimes I like a right good rousing.

I don't particularly like someone on the sidelines telling everyone that they're being immature. Grow up.

To you sideliners.. I say lighten up. Be annoying. Tell a really lame joke. Pick a fight if you have to. Just get outside of that box.

See, I don't think I was made to be old and crusty all the time. I don't think I was made to conform.

I think brains were made for thinking, feet were made for dancing, and hearts were made for <3'ing.. and not just when it's practical, but whenever and possible.

Sometimes, we just fall out of practice and forget how to let go. How to be free.

I'm guilty. I am bound right now. When I should be bounding.

In love poverty, we simply live hug to hug.. and save up every ounce of affection in our deprived hearts.

You want to know what I think the poverty line is..?
It's somewhere in the vicinity of the heart.

Very little to do with your annual income.
Everything to do with Love.
Or lack thereof.

Loving is fun.
-len

Chapter 27 : his eyes unveiled

A story in a story in a story in a book.

And yet I can identify with so much of it. The feeling of loss. Feeling trapped in the city of my circumstance, seeking out hope in any familar joy. Seeking out stories that could just as well be a memory displaced. Memories that could just as well be stories made flesh. The four doors - sleep, forgetting, madness, and death. Stumbling in a waking stupor for so long I forget who I am. Driving myself to an empty soulless madness. Driving my mind to a stupor and my body to a numbness that resembles the sighted seeking the solitude of the night.

I can sense vague memories of being loved and admired. Being loved so fully that I forgot myself.

Then waking up one day to find my world burned and betrayed. Trying as I may to resurrect my world, fruitlessly, furiously. To no avail. Carrying for so long the guilt of the destruction. Hiding from my own memories. Cowering in a comfortable numbness. Bitterness.

It is very dangerous, finding your own joy. It means making your heart soft again. But there is strength in weakness. There is beauty that overcomes the pain. There is courage and hope found in grace.

And hope means the diffence between a life of pain and one of joy. Hope must never be surrendered, lest your world crumble and decay of its own failings. So much is lost by surrendering such an intangible thing.

Kisses are replaced with tears. Tears with hope. Hope with joy.

And joy with song.
-len

You'll Never Understand

I will never be you, no I never will

You will never know how I secretly long to

whisper little thoughts into your apparatus

You never know how I long to feel

Without all this guilt driving me mad

Those words you inflict on me are not mine

Words that hold no meaning in my heart

I know not why I sit idle as I am lashed by their ferocity

Complicated and conflicted are my emotions

I dare not express them

but they return to me contorted and mangled

As they fight for their freedom

they drag me to their depths

You reject me - the more I offer myself to you

I take everything back - you finally notice

Afraid to touch - would you take it wrong?

to let go my reservations - could I hurt any more?

But in moments alone

In the purity of my individual silence

I can accept my place for a moment

and even take pleasure in it

This is the void that stands between us

Not one of silence, but one of longing

and longing to be once again longing

to once again find comfort in our distance

reassurance in your promise

a kindred spirit - aligned with my own

so I find my grounding

and make my way with little steps

to renew my self

and become the one I left behind

Imagination is silly...

I got on a bit of a reading kick for a while, and finished 3 books…
and of the three, Room was excellent, Boom was alright but meh and Jacob's Ladder was absolute RUBBISH!! Huge waste of time, and I'm pretty good about finding the merits of a half decent story. Serously - run away.

I'm trying to read another right now about someone with Alzheimer's. I'm sure it'll be good when I get into it, but I'm having trouble sinking in. The book is called The Wilderness
. There's another that I was going to try to start too, called Windup girl
and I got about 5 pages into it and was bored out of my gourd with all the genetic food and made up language. I can only hope something drastic happens to make it more interesting. I'm sure it will if I have the patience to get through the first few chapters. It just feels too much like an post-apocalyptic documentary from the start. Granted, I liked The Postman (which is very much a post-apocalyptic diary).

It feels a bit like I can freeze time with a book. Or perhaps not so much time as circumstances. I can completely remove myself from the thoughts that haunt me, and invent a new world. My invented world has problems to solve, and sometimes multiple story lines that can occasionally cross paths as they resolve themselves in my mind.

I'd like to find some stories like The Time Traveler's Wife or Century Rain. Those were good books with very compelling stories. Both of which I was compelled to read by the look of the cover. I think that's why I went for The Windup Girl, because the name made me think of robots, and the cover was compelling. Hopefully the story will pick up once I regain the patience to pick it up again.

I've also been reading Click - and it's nearly finished. I don't know why I've been dragging out the last few chapters. I was really compelled by the information at the beginning, but now the rest of it seems so common sense. The studies and scenarios were fascinating, but now it's just stories to narrate the points that were made earlier on. I think I prefer to find narrations in real life myself for books like that. Read about the behaviour and discuss it with other likeminded individuals - who are happy to discuss the relevance in real life situations and make broad generalisations.

I think that's why I've been enjoying the Word at 10 sabbath school classes. The other guys that go there are much the same in how they like to analyse and generalise. It just happens that the book that we discuss every week happens to never really change. Thanks to a topic, though, we are able to have some really good discussions. The guys there are all pretty cool characters too. They all have their own little quirks that remind me of my mates at home. We're all a bit of nerd, one way or another, in that class it seems. I actually considered suggesting we change the name of the group to the thinktank - but a name really wouldn't define this group. We're all too interesting.

I'm planning on going to Mollymook with these guys just after my birthday. The same town as John and Di's holiday home. I actually asked him if I could bring Rachael down there once when we went on holiday around our Anniversary. When we went to Pidgeon house mountain.

Maybe I should let Di know I'll be in that area, in case she has any cleanup work down there that I could help with. I miss John. He was a good listener, and very genuine.

Oh, one other thing. I saw this girl who took daily pictures of herself levitating. Awesome idea. I'm going to start practicing so I can do that too someday. Anyone with a good camera want to catch me in my levitational state?

'night all.

-len